Observations
by Carrie L
Summary: Happy Thanksgivukkah! Because you can never have too many Endgame fixers.


After what the admiral said, there was little to do but watch and wait, so Kathryn the scientist did exactly that. She observed the rainchecks on her invitations. She reviewed the duty roster and noticed how Chakotay and Seven's off duty time now synchronized. Nobody could have missed the way they stood side by side on the bridge when Voyager emerged in the Alpha quadrant at the far end of the Borg transwarp conduit, Kathryn thought, but when she looked around, she seemed to be the only one who wasn't focused on the miracles unfolding on the viewscreen.

When Starfleet gave the entire crew a month's leave before debriefings, she asked Chakotay to make sure that every crew member had somewhere to go. She inquired about many of them personally. Did they have family waiting? Would they be taken care of in this potentially emotional and stressful re-entry to civilian life? Nearly everyone was going to an enthusiastic welcome, and those headed into less certain situations had friends among the crew to turn to as a plan B. Seven was in contact with relatives eager to see her. Chakotay had received a message from relatives on Trebus, explaining that they were on their way to Earth but would only have a week or so with him before debriefings began, by the time their civilian shuttle arrived.

"You would be very welcome at my mother's home while you wait," Kathryn told him automatically across the desk in her ready room as they sat reviewing the crew's plans for leaving the ship. Every scene of homecoming in her head involved leading Chakotay by the hand up the wide, whitewashed steps to her mother's front porch. She couldn't quite give up on it, no matter how circumstances had changed, although she was certain he'd follow Seven – Annika, she had to remember to call her Annika now – to Norway.

"Thank you, that's very generous," Chakotay began. "Seven had invited me, but…" his words trailed off.

Kathryn had no desire to guess the end of that sentence. She stayed quiet, calling deliberately on her considerable self-control, until the silence became awkward. Finally she gave up and sighed in spite of herself. "But?"

"I don't think she needs someone else around the first time she sees her family since childhood. It'll be overwhelming enough for all of them without a guest in the house to worry about. I thought I might visit later in the month, once they've gotten comfortable with each other."

Kathryn nodded. "That sounds very sensible, and very sensitive of you." She turned back to the crew notes in her hand, wondering if he would even acknowledge her own invitation.

"So it would be very nice to spend a little time with you and your family," he told her in a rushed way, then swallowed and looked back to his notes as if something about that sentence made him nervous. Kathryn suddenly felt an urgent need to get out of her accustomed position opposite him, where she had spent so many happy hours. She leapt up and strode to the viewport, still clutching the pad. Being his temporary quarters until he felt that Seven and her family were ready for him was not the outcome Kathryn had imagined, but she hadn't imagined many things. She had deliberately forestalled most of her mind's attempts to shape a future beyond this ship, this ready room. Once they were back on Earth, there would be new imaginings and new realities. She would put one foot in front of the other. For now, Chakotay was coming home with her, and that would be good. Not perfect, but good enough. "Any concerns over the rest of the crew?" she asked, once she'd gotten her thoughts under control.

He spun toward her in his chair, shaking his head as he took in her stiff position across the room from him. For someone who'd just invited him to her home, she didn't seem particularly happy that he'd agreed. "Kathryn, if it would be awkward, I'm sure that B'Elanna and Tom would be – " he began.

"No, no," she turned back toward him with a cheerful smile on her face, "I didn't mean to seem unwelcoming. It will be wonderful to have you, and my mother will be delighted to have someone else to spoil. Please do come. You'll make us all so happy." She clasped her hands in front of her, still hanging onto the pad, in her best impression of a child anticipating a birthday party.

He chuckled and shook his head. Her ability to project whatever the occasion required never ceased to amaze him. Whatever was going on, she obviously had no intention of telling him. He held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay! I know better than to thwart Kathryn Janeway! I'm all yours."

At those words, her face froze and she turned her back to him again. After a few seconds, she said in the same cheerful voice, "Glad to hear it. Now, about the rest of the crew – any problems we need to resolve?"

He continued with the recitation of crew departure plans, never seeing the faces she was making at the viewport to keep tears from escaping.

#

As the crew mustered its meager possessions into bags and boxes, Kathryn moved among them, deck to deck, thanking each crew member individually, making sure that all was well as they left the nest of Voyager for homes and families that had changed in unpredictable ways. She knew that Chakotay was doing the same. Sometimes they crossed each other's paths with a cheerful wave in the corridor. She was doing her best to be enthusiastic, at any rate. His expression was something short of radiant. After a few such encounters, she began to wonder if he was already regretting his decision to visit her mother's house. Did he anticipate some sort of scene that he wanted to avoid?

When they materialized in front of the house in the humid early hours of an Indiana summer morning, steam rising off the corn, Chakotay took a step back in shock and dropped his bag. "Kathryn!" he cried, looking from the house to her with a panicked expression.

"What is it?" she gasped, looking around for some threat, distressed at his reaction to the home she loved.

"It's… it's the Caretaker's farm!"

She looked around her again. The house, the barn – yes, everything was as the Caretaker had reproduced it immediately after pulling them all to the Delta quadrant. It had seemed so natural that the alien lifeform had used a setting familiar to her, drawn from her own memories, that she hadn't thought to mention it to the others. They had certainly had plenty of other things to think about, and in the chaos afterward she'd forgotten about it.

"Yes, the Caretaker reproduced my family farm," she nodded. "I'm sorry I never told you. After I destroyed the array, I never thought about that setting again. I should have warned you. I'm so sorry." She came toward him and patted his arm, trying to coax the horrified look from his face.

Finally he dropped his head and shook it, lowering his hands to his knees, as if letting go something trapped inside. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spoil your homecoming that way. It just gave me a scare."

Kathryn picked up his bag and slowly led him up the steps, her enthusiasm for home now a little dampened. This was not a good omen. Then the door opened, her mother silently enfolded her in her arms and began to cry just as Kathryn knew she would, and Kathryn forgot all about Chakotay's reaction. At last Gretchen Janeway lifted her head and looked at the man waiting a little sheepishly behind her daughter.

"And this!" she cried, "This is your Commander Chakotay! I saw him on the news vids! You dear boy, thank you for bringing her home to me," she breathed, stepping past Kathryn to wrap him in her arms as well.

Chakotay looked up at Kathryn in surprise, but she only smiled and wiped at her own tears. Her mother's words were a little embarrassing – "_your_ Commander Chakotay" – but surely he wouldn't think that Kathryn had given her such an idea. Speculation about onboard relationships was everywhere even before they left the ship with Tom and B'Elanna showing off Miral. He looked down at the gray head resting on his chest, eyes shut, taking delight and comfort in his sturdy presence, and put his arms around her. "You're welcome, Ms. Janeway," he said, "but it would be closer to the truth to say that she brought me home."

Gretchen stepped back and took them each by one hand. "You'll tell me all the stories," she nodded. "And I'll cry the whole time. Now come inside and get settled while I finish getting breakfast."

That first morning they spent in Indiana, Gretchen made a huge meal for her returning wanderers and shooed them outside to get some of the fresh air they'd been so lacking. Kathryn stood against the porch rail in a light summer dress, taking in changes to the property. Chakotay followed her outside and sat on the porch swing.

"It may take me a few days to work up the nerve to go into the barn," he joked. She laughed and turned to half sit against the rail.

"It was terrible of me not to tell you," she said. "I can't believe I forgot. What an awful shock!"

Chakotay laughed. "After that breakfast, I'd forgive you for anything. Real eggs, from an actual chicken!" He raised his hands as if praising the spirits for miracles and Kathryn joined his easy laughter, unable to remember the last time they had laughed freely together, and at something other than gallows humor.

"It only proves," she answered, "that my total lack of cooking ability isn't genetic. Come on, I'll show you the creek. I don't think the Caretaker got around to recreating that."

And they were off.

#

The orchard was heavy with fruit this summer, weighing the boughs, with windfall fruit turning the grass below into a bumpy carpet. Kathryn kicked a few apples out of the way.

"Are you still planning to visit Seven?" she asked in a light tone. She didn't like to bring it up, but he hadn't mentioned it in nearly two weeks. They had been such relaxed, happy weeks, filled with walks and projects and games with family and neighbors. Having him with her every day in this natural way, free of duties and death threats, felt like a wonderful hallucination in the middle of a fevered Delta quadrant dream. If he was leaving to go to Seven, she needed time to prepare herself, to wake from the dream before the red alert sounded.

Chakotay grabbed a heavy branch above his head and swung himself a little as they walked between the rows. "To tell you the truth, I haven't spoken with her. She sent a few short messages early on to say that everything was going well, and after that I just forgot about it." He picked a small apple that was ripening early and bit into it with relish. "Not bad," he said, as if there was nothing heavier on his mind than the sweetness of summer fruit.

Kathryn observed his lighthearted reaction to her very serious question and clasped her hands behind her back. She walked on beside him, contemplating his words. He seemed to have let go of the idea of spending time alone with Seven without the slightest angst. "Well, you're entirely welcome to stay here if you're enjoying Mom's hospitality. She loves it. And I know she'd be happy to have your family here too."

The row of trees led them onward, pacing more and more slowly, along the curve of the hill. Chakotay shoved his hands in his pockets. "You're sure it wouldn't be too much to ask? It's my sister and her two kids, along with my cousins Teka and Loki. They used to be a real handful as kids. We were best friends."

Kathryn smiled at the image of Chakotay as a rambunctious boy. She'd seen more of that child here than ever before, amazed at seeing her reserved first officer dive into the creek to catch frogs and climb trees to get a view of the whole valley. He looked at her strangely all of a sudden, and she realized that she must have been wearing her happy thoughts on her face – very unusual for her too. She looked away from him and answered: "You've met my mother, right? Nothing would make her happier than to fill the house with family."

"Then it would make me very happy to have them here."

#

Sekaya stepped into the empty space next to Gretchen where she stood at the rear window of the kitchen, invisible from outside in the darkened house. Kathryn and Chakotay stood outside in the grass, pointing out constellations and planets to Vata and Seppo.

"Is it possible that they can't see it?" Sekaya asked the older woman.

Gretchen sighed. "I can't imagine how, but you may have noticed that these two are among the more stubborn specimens of the species."

"What have they been doing these last three weeks?" Sekaya wondered.

Gretchen gestured helplessly at the scene on the lawn. "This sort of thing! They've fixed everything mechanical on the place. My replicator works better than it ever did. Chakotay's blessed the orchard and they're building something in the barn I'm afraid to ask about."

Sekaya leaned forward onto the window sill. "They're happy." The two women smiled at each other, then looked back at the charming scene on the lawn in consternation. "I think it's been a very long time since either of them was truly happy. Maybe they don't recognize it."

"If Kathryn thinks she's being pushed into something," Gretchen began, and Sekaya interrupted: "she'll put up a fight, just like my brother would. No, it has to be their idea."

"The way things are going," Gretchen said, "I'm afraid they won't get the idea until it's too late. And this Borg woman I've been hearing about…."

Sekaya shook her head. "Don't worry about that. Leave this to me. Just give me a little time alone with my brother."

#

After breakfast the next morning, Sekaya asked Chakotay for a tour of the farm and left the children with their cousins. With a look over her shoulder at Sekaya, Gretchen led Kathryn off to the attic to sort through things stored there when Voyager was declared lost.

First, Chakotay showed his sister the simple flying machine he and Kathryn were building out of wood and cloth to entertain the neighborhood children. His woodworking skills were better than she remembered. He pointed out the sling seats and wings made of light sailcloth. "Kathryn's idea," he beamed. "She's a sailor. The plane will be strong and light. If we get done on schedule, Vata and Seppo can try it."

"You think I'm letting my children fly in that thing?" Sekaya exclaimed.

Chakotay looked wounded. "I assure you, it's very airworthy. Even if you don't trust me, you should trust Kathryn. She's a brilliant engineer," he said, then looked away, hiding his face.

Sekaya smiled and stepped around the craft toward him. "Do you realize that you haven't stopped talking about her since we got here?"

"I'm sorry," he muttered, rearranging some tools on the workbench. "Force of habit. We've worked together so closely all these years. I'll try to be a better conversationalist. How is your native seed project coming?"

"It's coming fine, but that's not why I mentioned it. Chakotay," she came up to the workbench and stood beside him to get a better look at the expressions he was trying to shield from her. "What will happen after your debriefings? Where will you go?"

He relaxed his shoulders. "Starfleet has floated some unofficial suggestions. Maybe an academic post, or a research assignment, or even another command if I pass the psychological review and get my commission reinstated. I haven't decided if I'm interested in any of it. And of course I'll come visit you. They're planning to give us an even longer leave afterward. I thought if might see if there was a role for me in building the new colony."

Chakotay looked at her expectantly, but Sekaya only smoothed the work surface with her hands. "And Kathryn? What will she do?"

He picked up a chisel and thumbed its sharp edge. "She has a lot of options too. There's talk of a promotion to the admiralty, an ambassadorship, or maybe another command for her too. I get the feeling she'll have her pick of offers." He sighed and lined up the chisel in an even line with the other tools. "She's a thoroughbred, Sekaya. She was born for this. It was only an accident that we were thrown together."

"A very lucky accident, it would seem," Sekaya said, glancing toward the aircraft. "You make an extraordinary team."

"We _made_ an extraordinary team." Chakotay gave a shove to the neat row of tools, knocking several out of alignment. "I let her down in so many ways. It's been a gift, having this time with her to restore our friendship a little. She and her family have been incredibly generous. But it's time for me to get out of her way and let her brilliant career resume."

Sekaya moved her hand over the tools, restoring order. "Have you talked to her about this?"

Chakotay pulled his hands into loose fists. "About what?"

"About getting out of her way? Leaving Earth? Does she know?"

He crossed his arms and stared at the tools. "Not exactly. We've talked about some of the Starfleet options. She probably thinks that's where I'm headed."

"Does she think you're in her way?"

"No, of course not, Sekaya. She's not like that. She would never see it that way, but that's how it is. There was a time when I thought I might have… some other role in her life, but I blew it. She doesn't need me hanging around complicating her life."

Sekaya lightly hummed a few bars of a gathering song they both knew from childhood, then threw over her shoulder before walking out of the barn, "Don't you think she deserves to have some say in that?"

#

"Remember?" Gretchen exclaimed. "You wore that to dance the dying swan in year 11. When they told us you were gone, I just couldn't let it go."

They'd been in the attic most of the morning, making orderly piles of Kathryn's things to save, recycle, use, and give away. Now she stood and held the white costume to her. "I remember," she breathed. "I danced the swan on Voyager once, you know. For talent night."

"You didn't!" her mother cried, leaning forward with a big laugh from where she sat on an old trunk. "Oh, I would have loved to see that. In front of your entire crew? You cheeky little thing!"

"Yes!" Kathryn affirmed with a laugh. "It was right before…," she trailed off and her eyes grew troubled. "Well, right before Chakotay and I got in an accident and – I guess we cheated death again that time. He was always there to pull me back from the brink. I can't imagine – I mean, I couldn't imagine a day without him, out there." Abruptly, she folded the costume and shoved it back into its box.

"He means a great deal to you," Gretchen said.

"Well, of course he does. All the crew do and we worked together as closely as anyone." The costume wasn't fitting well into the box and Kathryn commenced shoving it. Gretchen descended with waving hands and soothing noises to take the box and carefully fold in stray corners of the delicate costume. Kathryn sat back on her bottom in the dust and stared at the ceiling, her face blank and somewhat bereft.

Gretchen sat down again on the trunk and asked, "Where will he go after debriefings?"

Kathryn shook her head and held still. "He'll have some options with Starfleet, I think. But I get a feeling he hasn't bought into that. I think he might follow his family back to the colony."

"So no more word from the drone?" Gretchen had gleaned enough information about Seven to understand the general state of things without ever asking directly.

"No," Kathryn said. "They seem to have let contact lapse. He hasn't mentioned spending any more time with her. I don't know what to think. It must have been – " she waved her hand in exasperation, "another of his blondes."

"Another of his blondes?" Gretchen asked, tilting her head in concern.

Kathryn nodded. "He had a string of them. Human and humanoid, but the standard model was blonde, gorgeous, and statuesque. I guess that's his type." Gretchen caught Kathryn's self-conscious glance at her own petite, athletic shape.

"I see," Gretchen said with a frown. "How did you feel about that?"

Kathryn met her mother's eyes with a spark in her own. "How do you think it made me feel? I had no right." She clenched her fists and leaned forward. "But I wanted to punch her lights out every time. And then his."

Gretchen smiled and let that settle. "But now, you're just going to let him go without a fight? Doesn't sound like my Katie."

Kathryn leaned back on her hands "Come on, Mother, what would you have me do? Throw myself at him? He's been here three weeks. We're outside the chain of command and we spend almost every waking moment together. If something was going to happen, it would have happened. We both keep everything inside. He's just – he's moved on, and I need to accept it."

"Are you sure about that, Kathryn?" Gretchen asked. "Are you absolutely sure? Because regretting is awfully long."

#

On the last evening before they were to report in San Francisco for debriefing, Kathryn paused at a place in the orchard where the slope of the hill opened up a view of the verdant valley beyond, a scene of rolling hay pastures, with draft horses in the distance. Chakotay was beside her for a last walk around the land, something they'd made a daily habit. "There's something I've been wanting to ask you about," she said.

"Me too," he said, "but you go first."

His tone was so easy that it made her nervous. He couldn't be expecting what she had come to say. "No, you go ahead."

"All right," he said in that same relaxed tone. He dropped onto the grass and leaned back on his hands with his long legs stretched toward the horizon. "I've been talking to Sekaya, and she thinks I need to run something by you."

"Oh?" Kathryn said, kneeling beside him and smoothing her shorts. "What's that?"

He contemplated the shades of blue in the distance. "I've been thinking about going to the Trebus colony after debriefings. Giving up Starfleet to work at the rebuilding effort. She thought I should talk to you about it."

Kathryn hesitated, then said with conviction, "Of course I would help you in any way I can. You know that. You only have to ask. You might not even have to do that if I can figure out some way to support the colony before you think of it." She smiled broadly at him, transmitting all her good will.

He had to smile in return, but something in her smile was sad, and it made him cast down his eyes to where she was pulling grass. "So, you wouldn't mind?" he asked.

"Mind?" she echoed. The word hung on the apple-scented air. She let grass fall through her fingers and scatter on her lap. "Well, I… I'm not your keeper. I'm not your captain. I have no right to mind."

"I know that. But would you, anyway?"

He was watching her with such interest that it made her uncomfortable. She didn't know what he was after and she'd prepared herself for a certain sort of conversation. She turned her head slightly away from him and contemplated the nearest apple tree. "I wouldn't want you to make such an important decision based on my… convenience."

He smiled again. Sometimes it was like taming a Trakan beast, getting her real opinion out of her. "So you would find it _inconvenient_? You sound like Seven now."

Kathryn straightened a little and her hand stilled on the grass. "Oh? Have you been in touch with her?"

"No. We seem to have realized pretty quickly that we have no need of each other when we're surrounded by our real families."

"But you've only had yours for a week," she said with genuine sympathy. "I wish it could have been longer."

"It was," he said, looking at her with open, earnest eyes.

She saw his meaning immediately, but said, "What do you mean?" Nothing could be left unsaid on this day. She had to know.

He paused, then leaned over to take her hand as he launched into carefully chosen words. "I don't say it to make you obligated to me – you've done so much already to make me feel welcome here – but Kathryn, you're my home. You have been for a long time. I will cherish this friendship no matter where I go."

She lowered her eyes and let her fingertips curl around his. _Friendship. No matter where I go. _He thought of them as friends, and he was leaving Earth. "You will always be welcome here. My mother adores you."

"What about you?"

_Did she adore him? Yes. But that wasn't what he was asking. _"I'll be off on some new assignment, I suppose, but we'll keep in touch, won't we?"

He studied the back of her hand. "People always say that. I think we'll try, but it'll be hard over so much distance. I'll miss you every day, but I'll hear from you less and less."

"You're probably right," she said with a little sigh. "I'll miss you too." She reached over and patted the hand holding hers. "I'd always hoped that you'd come here, you know. I mean, that you'd come home with me, see the farm, meet my family. It means a lot. And I'm so happy I got to meet a little of your family too. Thank you."

"I've enjoyed it very much. You're the one who's been generous. And I don't know how I can ever repay your mother."

"It was her pleasure, believe me." She sat up and pulled her hand away, resting it in her lap. "I have to confess an ulterior motive."

"What's that, Kathryn?" His attentive posture hadn't changed, but there was something reserved about him that worried her, as if he was already withdrawing from her.

"When I imagined you coming here, I imagined us together. I know it must sound foolish now, after all that's happened, but there it is, this little dream I held onto. I'm glad to have had a part of it, even if I can't have all of it. It _has_ been like family, having you here. I'll remember it all my life." She spoke her words to the distant hills, unable to look at him.

Beside her, she heard only the small rustle of his hands knotting together in his lap. After a long pause, he said: "There have been times when I would have fallen at your feet to hear words like that."

Her heart broke, just like that. It was neither loud nor dramatic, but she felt the distinct crack of something breaking within her. This was how she would be from now on: broken. It wasn't much of a surprise, and she felt that she would probably be able to bear it, after a while, like she'd born everything else. She nodded a little and asked, "But not anymore?"

He was bent over, his head bowed. "I tried very hard not to love you anymore. I tried to love other people, I tried to talk myself out of romantic involvement entirely – none of it worked."

"So then, you're saying…?"

He rubbed his face with his hands. "I'm saying you'd be getting a scarred old heart, Kathryn. It's not what you deserve. You deserve someone who can sweep you off your feet. Some shiny admiral, not someone whose greatest achievement has been making Starfleet's most wanted list."

"I don't care about being swept off my feet," she said, still sitting quite still, not looking at him, staring down at her own hands clenched in her lap, not daring to let her mind follow where the words seemed to be leading. "I only care about you. If you have a scarred old heart you're willing to give me."

He sat up and leaned close to her. "After all this time? After everything? You'd still have me?"

She took a long time to answer, staring down at the scattered, overripe fruit on the grass. When she finally spoke, her voice was less steady than usual. "I still love you. But I don't want to be your consolation prize."

"Oh Kathryn," he said, closing the gap between them, scooting right next to her. "I didn't mean it that way." He ran a hand over her hair, admiring how it gleamed red in the dying sunlight. He had been astonished the last few weeks at how different she looked in the radiant light of her home planet. Her rank fell away and he had forgotten, sometimes for hours at a time, that any relationship existed between them other than the joy of some shared project. In those hours he fell in love with her all over again, then afterward it was as if he woke up to all the complications that existed between them, and grieved. "I just wish that I were still the man you knew on that planet where we were stranded. I wish we'd never hurt each other, that everything was still fresh and perfect."

There were tears in her eyes but she struggled to contain them as she shook her head. "I don't want fresh and perfect. I'm not fresh and perfect. I'm not the woman you deserve either. I've made so many mistakes. It didn't surprise me at all that you wanted somebody else." Her shoulders trembled.

At this he took her head in both hands and raised her face to look at him. "That's the cold, miraculous truth of it, Kathryn – I know all your mistakes. I know all your flaws. I know every place where the Doctor has stitched you back together and waved his magic wand over your scars. And I've never loved anybody the way that I love you."

She looked up at him and hiccupped. "Really?"

He nodded and placed a brief, sweet kiss on her lips. "Really." He laid back on the grass and pulled her close to him, ignoring the bumpy ground, simply beside himself to have Kathryn wrapped up in his arms, her breath warm through his light shirt. They lay there as the sun set and the breeze rose in the tops of the apple trees, lifting the oppressive heat of day. She shivered and cuddled closer to him. "We should go in," he said.

"Yes," she answered from her snug place on his shoulder. "Chakotay, I've been thinking. I could come with you to Trebus, help with the rebuilding. If you want."

It was getting too dark to see her features clearly, even if he were to twist to get a good look at her face. "What about the admiralty, Kathryn? Your career?"

She made a little wiggling movement that would probably look like a shrug if she weren't wrapped around him. "I've had the adventure I came for with Starfleet. Now I want to build something. I want a home."

"It won't be much," he warned. "It'll be a hut with unreliable power. But I can promise you a bathtub."

"Well, as long as the bathtub is guaranteed." He felt her smile against his chest.

"Do you have any idea how much I love you?" he whispered. She squirmed up to get close enough to his face to kiss it, longer this time, both of them nearly overcome with emotion.

"No," she answered. "You'll have to teach me."

"That I will," he said, his smile a beacon in the dark as he rose and pulled her to her feet. "That I will." They moved off toward the house, the small figure tucked in close under the arm of the larger one, as the trees murmured and scattered the richest fruit of all.


End file.
